I'll Dream You, Wide Awake
by Heroes Can Save You
Summary: AU. James Kirk is struggling to find direction and meaning in his life, and finds himself plagued by the visions of another life - where he is Captain of the Starship Enterprise. Haunted by these visions, he tries to understand which world he is a part of - and finds himself torn between two very different lives. Kirk/Spock. Canon Divergence.
1. Another Space and Time

**I'll Dream You, Wide Awake**

**by Heroes Can Save You**

_Title comes from the song Dreaming Wide Awake by Poets of The Fall and this story was inspired by this amazing video that you can watch here: watch?feature=player_embedded&v=O2Qc_JHU6Ug_

_Though it isn't necessary for the story really._

_I own neither Star Trek nor the song._

_Rated M for later chapters._

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**Chapter 1: Another Space and Time.**

James Kirk suspected that the smile on his doctor's face was supposed to be encouraging, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. The more his doctor smiled, his chin resting on his long pale fingers as he observed him carefully, the less inclined James felt to talk to him. He shrugged and he watched as the doctor made a little note of the response.

"So James, since the last time we spoke have you had anymore of these dreams?" Dr. John Harrison asked, watching his patient carefully.

"They aren't dreams, I've told you it's like they are memories. The memories of another me," Jim informed him, staring out of the window past his doctor, bored at repeating the same statement week in and week out. His doctor nodded and smiled that thin-lipped smile again.

"Well why don't you tell me about any new ones you have experienced? Is the same man still present? This – what did you call him? Vulcan?"

"He's half – Vulcan," Jim snapped, answering before he really knew why. Did it matter that much? He wondered to himself. His doctor nodded and Jim sighed, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "He's nearly always in them. He was in some kind of suit, inside a volcano and I was trying to save him even though when I asked Bones he said he wouldn't save me if it was the other way around,"

A twitch of his doctor's eyebrow, the last comment had interested him.

"Why do you not think he would save you? You have expressed that, at least in these visions, he is your friend isn't he? So surely he would want to?"

Jim shook his head.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Jim muttered for a moment, the words causing that strange tugging sensation, as if his mind were trying to get him to remember something that he couldn't quite grasp. "I can't remember why – it wasn't one of the clearer memories," he explained, with a casual shrug. His thoughts were wandering back now, piecing together his, or at least some other James Tiberius Kirk's memories of the dark haired Vulcan. In some of them he wasn't even doing anything with his crewmember, he was just watching him from across the bridge as he worked or sitting quietly and working while the other meditated. There were emotions connected to the memories, a strange sense of longing but Jim was never sure if it came from him or from the dreams.

"But you don't remember his name? You know the names of everyone else," His doctor clarified, and Jim shrugged.

"I guess its not important then, didn't you say you felt the people in these delusions and what they represented were more important?" He asked, fixing sharp blue eyes onto his doctor.

Rather than feeling uncomfortable over the accusation in his voice Dr. Harrison simply smiled, tapping his notepad.

"Yes, but I don't think I said those things to you,"

He didn't raise his voice, or look anything other than polite but Jim always felt an undercurrent of coldness in his doctor, just enough that he never felt fully relaxed in these therapy sessions he was forced to take.

Jim just raised his chin and cast a look of defiance at his doctor, who simply settled for staring back at him. The rest of the session dragged on, Dr. Harrison continually asking him questions about the version of himself in his dreams, asking questions about the people in them compared to the people in his life – had he ever met any of them for example? Jim gave his usual brief, curt answers, reclining back on the sofa as if they were chatting as friends rather than patient and doctor.

He couldn't remember how long he had been having these flashes, these glimpses of another glittering life as a Starfleet Captain in the future but what had started out as dreams had begun to creep into his everyday consciousness. Sometimes he would be walking down the road, or sitting on a bus and it would come to him – an image flickering up, a memory that he knew couldn't be his coming from nowhere. Sometime while the images were coming to him he could simply sit there, as if watching the events playing out on the screen. Small bits of information had started to seep in, and he had realized important things about this other version of himself – he was confident, happy, arrogant and important. He had friends he would die for and people, who trusted him, trusted them to lead and protect them. He was a hero.

It seemed a far cry from the person he was now. As a child he had been noted as being exceptionally intelligent, and this had lead to him having been accelerated through school. Always being younger than his peers, he felt like he never really fit in – especially not when he managed to complete an undergraduate degree in engineering and physics in a fraction of the time it took normal students and at only 19 years old. After he had completed a further degree he had lost all interest in studying anymore, and found himself wondering what on earth he should do with his life. He wasn't unattractive, and he was intelligent, and hell, when he wanted to he could be pretty damn charming, and Jim found that he never really had to work for anything he wanted. It all just seemed to come so easily.

Now here he was, 25 years old, working in a small run down cinema that no one ever came to and seeing a therapist at his parent's insistence, who were convinced he suffered from depression – after all why else would anyone throw away a glittering academic career for the life he led?

He had overheard Doctor Harrison telling his parents when he had first started visiting him that it was probably Jim's high intelligence that had caused him to create a fantasy world as a form of escape from the elements of his life he had disliked. He had researched it one night, noticing that children with exceptionally high IQs would create fictional worlds where they could feel accepted in a way they couldn't in normal society – this could, if not picked up at a young age, continue to effecting them until they were adults and – as Dr. Harrison clearly believed had happened with Jim, become an alternate reality that the unhappy adult would retreat to.

Perhaps that was it, Jim thought, perhaps he had just created this world to comfort himself, but sometimes it seemed so real. Laughing with Bones as they overheard some scandalous rumor about him spreading around the academy, driving in that car with the roof down and Jim could remember even the feeling of the wind in his hair and the sensation of flying as he threw himself from it.

Jim had no idea what to do about the situation, and he was suspecting that his doctor didn't have much idea either. He had been visiting the sinister Dr. Harrison for a year, and all he had noticed was that these visions had gone from being simply dreams when he was sleeping to affecting him when he was awake. Which didn't seem much like treatment to him. Still, he kept this little fact to himself for the moment, not sure what to do with the revelation.

It had been raining when he had left the therapists office, and by the time Jim had ran back to the dingy cinema he was soaked through. His boss barely glanced at him from his spot at the ticket counter and he simply pointed to the projection room. Jim wondered why his boss even bothered opening most of the time, and stripped his wet jumper off in the comfort of the dim projection room. He stood, bare-chested and carefully eased open the roll of film and slid it into the old rickety projector. He glanced at the title, and tried to remember what the film they were showing that day was, some old black and white detective movie maybe? Not that anyone would be coming to see it.

The thick heavy velvet curtains that could be drawn over the screen were already pulled back, and the house lights – bare bulbs hanging in elaborate glass chandeliers had been lowered. There was still a small section of stage visible under the screen from when the cinema had been a theater back in the 1930s. The owner, probably out of laziness, had kept the art deco decorations to the place, and while there was some chipping plaster and crumbling stairs, the place held certain nostalgia. The screen itself and the equipment was decent enough given that they were still operating 35mm film in a digital age, and they had a few dedicated film goers who would still come along – usually because the old guy who ran the place seemed to prefer showing old fashioned rare sci-fi gems that could pull the younger, geekier crowd in. At this time on a Monday afternoon, however, it would probably be a film showing just for Jim – something the owner seemed perfectly content to let him do.

He threaded the film through carefully, squinting in the dim light. He flicked the button that turned the film on, and the familiar whirring sound started. He settled down, feeling around for a tub of sweets he knew he had left in the room. He ate them slowly, half watching the film, half thinking about the dark haired man who his visions were focusing on with surprising frequency. He knew a few things about the man, and his face seemed to haunt him – he was shockingly beautiful to Jim, with his strange pointed ears and eyebrows, and such perfect, silky looking hair.

The two images that really stuck with him were the image of the man, leaning over him furiously as he choked him after the other Jim, or rather he, had goaded a reaction from him by speaking about his mother. But it wasn't just that image, although he would be the first to admit that even as he felt for sure the other would kill him, he'd felt some strange pride at being able to get a reaction from the emotionless man. The other memory that kept coming back to him again and again was the image of the half Vulcan stood on the transporter, arm outstretched, staring in heartbreak and confusion at the place where his mother should have stood. For some reason he found himself constantly faced with that image, time and time again – as if he wanted to engrave the others pain and heartbreak on his own mind.

A movement from the seat below snapped him from his daze and he sat up, leaning out of the projection booth to look down. The fluctuating light coming from the cinema screen picked out a single figure, sat amongst the dark empty chairs. Jim almost let out a noise of surprise, and he wondered who on earth had wandered into the old fashioned theater. He wore a simple plain white shirt from what Jim could see from his position, and he watched the man for a few minutes. He was sat with his back very straight, his hands placed flat on his knees in front of him, but had leaned forward slightly in his seat, as if anticipating something that was about to happen in the film. Jim felt himself smiling at the stiff posture, and it reminded him of someone else for some reason, although he wasn't sure why – after all it wasn't like he had many friends. At least not in this reality.

He must have moved and cast a shadow over the stream of light coming from the projector, because the man turned suddenly and looked straight up at him with a shocking familiar face. He wore plain black-rimmed glasses, but Jim felt that even from this distance that he could see deep into those dark, dark eyes that had locked onto his. His hair was longer than the image in Jim's head, but still neat and ordered and he held himself in the same stiff sort of way. They sat staring at each other for a while before Jim offered a hesitant smile, and raised his hand in greeting.

As far away as he was, Jim was sure he could see a tiny upward flickering of the others lips, and a hand rose to return his greeting before the other man turned back to the film.

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**Chapter 1 is done – it may be confusing at first. It's sort of meant to be until the story gets going – let me know what you think and I'll write more! Promise! I'm never sure about writing AU's. Also, there is something romantic about meeting in some kind of old fashioned cinema – don't you think? Erm, so yeah – there you have it!**


	2. We Could Be Flying Deadly High

**Chapter 2: We could be flying deadly high**

He was back again. He'd been coming every Monday for three weeks, but this was the first time that Jim had been at the ticket desk and able to properly see him rather than the glimpses he'd caught when he was hanging out of the projection room window. He'd managed to persuade his manager to take a shift up in the box, and despite the fact the man had grumbled, he had eventually given in to Jim's charming smile. Well, they always did in the end, didn't they?

If the dark haired man was surprised to see him there, he didn't show it, he just stood with his back ramrod straight and his hands resting lightly on the counter. Jim found himself leaning on the counter and peering at him curiously.

"You've been coming a lot," He stated, holding the man's ticket in his hand but making no move to hand it over.

"Is that a question or a statement?" The other asked, an eyebrow flickering upwards slightly and Jim felt his smile widen.

"I'm curious why you keep coming here every week? Are you that big a fan of the old movies? Especially old space movies?" He grinned and the young man tilted his head to the side a little, his dark eyes taking in every detail of Jim's face carefully, as if assessing him.

"I am a fan of old films as you say, that they are films about space does not increase or diminish my enjoyment of them in any way," he replied and Jim found himself enjoying the mans strangely formal way of speaking, his interest being captured once more.

"What's your name?" Jim asked suddenly, and the other man looked a little taken aback, as if the sudden question surprised him.

"Why?" He asked and Jim laughed now, the noise echoing through the empty entrance hall.

"Policy. Can't let you into the cinema without knowing your name," Jim explained, holding the ticket close to his chest.

"I did not have to give it the other times I visited," The other man told him, his voice remaining calm and emotionless, but Jim could see the glitter of amusement in the others eyes.

"You must tell me who served you, I'll have to write them up for the terrible disregard of this establishments rules," Jim smiled, tilting his head as he leaned forward on the desk. The dark haired man was openly smiling now and Jim wanted to reach out and run his fingers and his tongue over that smile – savoring every moment of it. He settled for glancing at the clock behind him.

"Better tell me quickly, or you'll miss the start," He sang.

"My name is Spock," He was informed before quick hands slid forward and tugged the ticket from his loose grip.

"Spock," Jim repeated, rolling the name around his mouth and letting it drip of his tongue. It was like something inside him had just clicked into place, and just for one moment it was as if all the confusion in the world had faded. It didn't matter that he was James T. Kirk, caught between worlds, because the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered was that name. The peaceful moment faded as soon as it came, and he wondered why a name had suddenly been so important.

He could feel himself smiling as Spock began to walk up the stairs that would take him to the screen. He stopped suddenly, a graceful hand resting lightly on the ornate wooden banister.

"And your name is?" He asked and Jim raised an eyebrow, mimicking the man's action from earlier.

"Why?" He asked and Spock glanced down at the stairs before looking back up.

"You know mine, it would seem only sensible to know yours," He explained and Jim found himself smiling again.

"My name is James Tiberius Kirk," He told him and Spock nodded, starting to walk back up the stairs.

"That is a very good name," Spock called, not turning back to see if Jim had caught his words.

Jim stared after him, until the converse clad feet has disappeared from his vision and realized he was still smiling. He thought he had just smiled more in those last few minutes than he could remember doing in the past year. At least more than he could remember in this world.

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"_Do you understand why I went back for you?" He was asking the dark haired man, who continued to stare at him in confusion. His emotions were conflicted – he felt irritation, affection and disappointment in his first officer's lack of comprehension. He was thinking back on Bones' words – that if their roles had been reversed then this man, his friend, would have let him die. Perhaps this thought explained the sinking feeling in his stomach – perhaps their friendship was very one sided. "I'll miss you," he told him, watching expectantly for a reply. The man opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and closed it again – looking at him in confusion. He exhaled angrily and stomped away, his hands balling into tight fists by his sides. Some days he really wanted to take his phaser of stun._

Jim jumped, as if waking from dream, and sat up straighter on the bus and looking around in confusion. He didn't remember getting on the bus, too caught up in the thoughts drifting into his head and hadn't any clue where he was going. He looked out of the window, trying to figure out where on earth he was. Spotting a recognizable landmark he rang the bell and pushed his way off the bus. It was a warm day, but there was a cold breeze and Jim wondered to himself why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was surprised to find himself at the University, and stared up at the intimidating building, his mind already superimposing an image of the Starfleet Academy in the Universities place. He dodged through the traffic on the road, crossing to sit down on the grass, his mind happily replaying when he had repeated such actions with his friends.

A buzzing noise from his pocket made him glance down and he pulled his communicator from his pocket. The name on the screen made him pull a face.

"Divert call from Dr. Harrison," he muttered, feeling guilty but wondrously rebellious at the same moment. He knew that he would have to ring back soon and explain what had happened, but right now he enjoyed the few fleeting moments of freedom the action gave him. No sooner had he rejected the call, but his communicator buzzed again, and his fathers name appeared on the screen.

He let out a sigh and considered rejecting the call, but that feeling of guilt had come back. Even though he often felt as if his parents were nothing but distant strangers Jim felt strangely as if he should do what he could to be a good son and make them happy, especially his father, when his head was filled with memories of growing up without him.

"You missed your session," George Kirk wasted no time on pleasantries but cut straight to the chase, it was a strange quirk of his fathers that Jim found he enjoyed.

"I know, George," he muttered, biting back the word 'dad' that waited on the tip of his tongue. He found it strange to call this man that, although he knew it must have been something he said once. His father, had either not noticed or had chosen not to mention that he referred to him by his first name.

"You really need to go to every one to get the benefit Jimmy," His fathers gruff voice told him and Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. One year of therapy and he sure as hell hadn't seen any benefit yet. His father stopped speaking and he could hear rustling and a quiet conversation in the background. His mothers voice suddenly crackled over the line, but it was something he had been expecting.

"Why didn't you go? You have to ring Dr Harrison and rearrange James, he is one of the best in the city you can't just not show up!" His mother yelled and Jim pulled a face – being called James meant she was really mad at him.

"Ah, I lost track of time," he explained lamely. He waited for the backlash, but was surprised when he wasn't informed this was a shit excuse. Looked like he wasn't as good at reading his mother as he used too. Or perhaps he just wasn't familiar with this version of her anymore – now that his head was filled with thoughts of another Winona Kirk.

"Its nothing we should worry about?" She asked tentatively and he fought the urge to laugh. Loosing a chunk of your life with no explanation? Yes, it probably was something to worry about he thought.

"No, I was just working," he lied, hoping that through the phone she wouldn't be able to hear it. But then he couldn't remember anymore which version of his mother it was who always knew when he was lying.

"Oh Jimmy! That's no excuse!" She said, and Jim could picture her, face stern and a hand on her hip as she told him off, looking down at him from over the top of a pair of wire framed glasses. "Call Dr. Harrison and give your apologies. I'll tell him you will be there next Monday, so do not miss it – tell him George,"

His fathers voice came back on the line, as if he had more chance of making Jim obey.

"Do as your mother says. We love you Jim, goodbye," his father told him up, hanging up soon after his goodbye – probably because he didn't want to hear the silence as Jim struggled to repeat the phrase to them.

He didn't bother calling his doctor back, after all he was sure his parents would sort all that out. He glanced at his watch, noticing the number of people milling around outside the University had increased and guessed it would probably be about the time lectures finished. He had no idea what to do with the rest of his afternoon and contemplated heading into the park, or wandering into the city. He wondered if he should head back to work but he had no phone call from his boss so he assumed he wasn't needed. He wondered if he had left the cinema before Spock had.

As if in answer to his question a familiar looking dark head was making its way across the University grounds. Jim did a double take and then pushed his way through the crowds, able to catch the man's hand just as he was about to walk up the steps into the building.

"Spock!" He smiled and the other man stared at him in surprise before his beautiful eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"James Kirk, are you following me?" He asked and Jim laughed, reluctantly letting go of Spock's hand.

"I promise this is nothing but a happy coincidence," he reassured him and Spock seemed to relax a little – although it was something Jim felt he could only see through having seen the action completed many times.

"Well in that case it is very good to see you, but I must return to my office as I have students to meet this afternoon," Spock explained, tilting is head in goodbye before he began to walk back up the stairs.

"You teach here?" Jim asked, easily falling into step with Spock, who, if he was curious as to Jim ignoring his closing of the conversation didn't comment on it.

"I do," he smiled, not elaborating any further. Jim frowned; it was like pulling teeth getting conversation from the other man. Still, Jim thought, if anyone could it would be him.

"What do you teach?" He probed, taking note of the area of the university they were in.

"Theoretical physics – focusing on black holes, anomalies and the event horizon, which is -," Spock began to explain but Jim waved him away. His degrees might be in the areas of politics and engineering, but he still had a general idea of the basics of physics and space – after all he had the knowledge of a starship captain.

"You don't need to explain, I know a little about things like that," Jim smiled and Spock's eyebrow raised.

"Forgive me, I had not expected that given your occupation," Spock informed him and Jim was pretty sure Spock was insulting him – intentionally or not.

"Well I'm sure I can surprise you plenty more than that," Jim said, and he offered Spock his most charming smile. Spock slowed to a halt, ignoring the group of students half way down the corridor who were watching them with interest.

"Well James, as you can see I have students waiting to speak to me. This has been a pleasant conversation," Spock told him and Jim waited for anything more. They stood in silence, neither moving and Jim sighed. Looked like he was always going to have to make the first move.

"Would you like to come and play chess with me sometime?"

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**Boom. Cliffhanger. Hope this was good and what you had all wanted! Expect updates weekly at the very latest! I've written both the final chapter and the epilogue so know the story does have some aim and point that it's heading towards.**

**Let me know what you think, I hope y'all liked it! And the real action starts from the next chapter.**


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